


A Grim Fate

by talesfromthepayload



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Vague legion spoilers I suppose, World of Warcraft Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesfromthepayload/pseuds/talesfromthepayload
Summary: You ran in knowing full well you wouldn't make it back out. You fought until you couldn't anymore, and then you kept fighting, even as the full power of the legion wore down on you. In a last attempt to save your own life, you opened a portal. Unable to stabilize it while in the heat of battle, you find yourself in a strange situation upon waking.In which you awake in an Overwatch facility fresh out of Azeroth.





	1. Voices Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> You don't really need to understand World of Warcraft in any way to read this, though you may be able to catch a few references if you do.

Darkness became your reality.

Whispers from the endless void shining light in a pit of black. You were nowhere, no one. Your heart had surely stopped by now, just as it had that fateful day, the past rearing its ugly head in your present.

That familiar voice beckoned, syllables sharp like icicles.

_Just let go._

_Become who you were meant to be._

_Embrace destiny._

You exhaled, long and heavy, and for a moment you could swear you saw your own breathing in front of you. Darkness, however, prevailed. The world was empty, as was your soul, but for some reason, some light kept tugging you back.

It was brilliant and bright, piercing through the dark like a thousand flaming arrows. Every inch of your mind was lit, a sudden, sharp inhale forcing you forward.  
You choked on your breath, lungs burning as you coughed for all you were worth. No longer did you feel empty. Your consciousness was returning, your mind mending itself. You were stable.

“Breathe,” a lightly accented voice requested, her tone soothing as if she’d done this thousands of times before.

You heeded her advice, sure she was the professional if she was acting this calm. Your muscles groaned and your bones grumbled as you stretched your body this way and that, eyes steadfastly shut. You were regaining strength by the minute.

There wasn’t much you could tell at this point in time, but you were positive this wasn’t a resurrection. The spirits of the grave didn’t linger, darkness ebbing away by the second.

Your lids opened slowly, allowing light to trickle in. You couldn’t tell if your eyes were burning as they once did before you’d received the treatment, but you noticed that the world was a little brighter than it’d been before you’d been knocked unconscious.

Your gaze landed on the woman standing above you. She had blonde hair tied back so she could focus on her work. Her tired eyes were betraying her soft features, a true testimony to her inner self. Tools were scattered this way and that by your bedside, a tray laying haphazardly a few feet away as if it’d been thrown in frustration. Lying to her left was what appeared to be a staff, though it was unlike any you’d seen before.

“Ah, you’re awake.” She said calmly, though a significant weight rolled of her shoulders at the discovery.

You nodded, running a sore arm down the length of your leg. Your weapons were missing and you’d been stripped of most of your armor. Confusion must’ve been evident on your face since the woman, whom you could only assume was some sort of medic, spoke up.

“I had to remove some of your things in order to patch up some of your larger wounds. I hope you aren’t too terribly angry about that.”

You shrugged it off, forcing yourself up. The medic rushed to your side, her hands outstretched but not quite touching you in a show of respect for personal space.

“I would advise against getting up,” she warned, taking a step back when you swung a leg over the bed anyways. “It might reopen a few wounds.”

“I’ve had worse,” you muttered, your voice raspy and weak.

It was clear you needed water or some other drink to quench the thirst that’d been building over the days you’d been out.

“Please,” the young woman urged, gesturing back towards the bed, “I am only trying to help.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, each step sending sharp signals up your spine, though you continued anyways.

“I need my gear.”

Though your voice wasn’t the nicest sounding, your tone wasn’t unpleasant. She had patched you up, after all, you did owe her.

“It is not in here,” she said, hands lifted above her as if she didn’t want to force you to lay back down, but she would if you tried anything. “Now, relax.”

“Where is it?” You inquired, still not heeding her advice.

Pain was something you could deal with. It kept you from the insanity that shadowed your mind.

She sighed, nodding her head in the direction of the exit.

“My friends are taking c-”

“They’re what?” You shouted, concern flooding your body.

You wasted no time in barreling through the door, the blonde haired woman yelling after you all the while. Your metal boots pounded against the ground, a weight growing on your shoulder. If they were to listen…

You banished the thought from your mind, images blurring as you ran through. In the distance, you could faintly make out a few people surrounding the blue hue. That had to be it.

“Stop!” You screamed, voice booming.

Their curious eyes turned to examine you just as you ran full swing into the first one. You caught yourself on his shoulders, taking a moment to drag in stinging breaths. A painful reminder you were still injured.

As the moment passed, your gaze fell on the man above you. He had some sort of protective gear over his face, a red glow where his eyes should be.

“Curious,” you muttered, apologizing as you looked to the source of your dread.

“It was, uh, talking?” A voice offered, his kind eyes bearing into you.

You nodded, heaving a sigh in relief.

“Yeah, it has a tendency to do that.”

For a minute, you entertained the idea of just leaving it there. Letting another carry the burden. Your head dropped in shame at the thought, your heart like ice as your fingers took a hold of the cool metal. It was frozen to the touch, the feeling splintering up your arm like newly formed ice.

The blade was heavy, but not as heavy as the voices in your mind. Your own personal hell, courtesy of an old friend.

“What is it?” The same boy from before asked.

You didn’t answer, instead taking a moment to truly grasp your surroundings. It was bright and cheery, unlike the slaughter you’d left with. The people were kind with (mostly) unburdened souls. They were like the kind of heroes you’d heard in stories as a kid, save for the guy with the mask.

He held himself differently, like a soldier, not a hero. Though, you could tell that he wasn’t a bad man, just the kind that did what needed to be done, not necessarily what was morally right at the time. You’d be damned if that didn’t remind you of someone.

“Where am I?” You finally asked.

This place seemed entirely untouched by the darkness that’d been festering in the shadows of your home. You felt your connection to the magics that’d offered you power weaken. The portal must’ve sent you off world.

“A remote location in Montana,” the masked man offered, his voice as gruff as his exterior.

You raised a brow, but didn’t comment your confusion. You would figure it out soon enough, as you always did.

“Mercy here patched you up,” he said, nodding in the blonde woman’s direction.

You noted his wariness with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, Mercy,” you spoke softly.

She beamed at you, wielding her staff a little loser.

“Happy to be of assistance.”

Your gaze moved from one person to the next, overwhelmed by how bright everything was. Closest to you was the old soldier, his,uh, gun (?) tight in his hand. Next was Mercy, her features gentle and happy. To her right was another man, though he looked significantly younger. He held himself highly, with shoes that glowed green. You didn’t quite know what to make of that. Behind them was a young woman with something blue strapped to her chest and a smile on her face.

What an odd bunch, you couldn’t help but muse, your grip on the leather hilt tightening.

_Death will follow._

“If you have no problem with me asking, I would like to know your name,” Mercy inquired, stepping a little closer to your position.

“(Y/N),” you said hesitantly, waiting for a reaction. They didn’t see anything wrong with the name.

You had to be off world. Your name was very well known on your home world, though not entirely for the best reasons. Some regarded you as a hero, others regarded you as a villain, but they all knew your name.

“I am Angela!” She introduced herself, pointing to her friends one at a time, starting with the soldier. “This is Soldier: 76, Lúcio, and Tracer.”

Aliases, you realized. It seems they were not as they appeared either.

“Why the 76?” You couldn’t help but ask.

His head tilted an inch forward.

“Why the talking sword?”

Check and mate.

“Right,” you drawled, eyes downcast.

It’d been a very long time since you had such a long interaction with others outside of the battlefield.

“I’m afraid I’ve been here too long already.”

Angela opened her mouth to protest, shutting it with an audible thud when you sent a look in her direction.

“Thank you for the help,” you said honestly.

Dying hadn’t been your goal when you ran into battle, but it certainly wasn’t the worst outcome. Maybe then you’d finally be free of the shackles that imprisoned you to such a grim destiny.

“Where are you going?” Soldier: 76 questioned, his grip loosening ever so slightly on his weapon.

Curiously, you released a breath of air at that action.

“To war, I suppose,” you shrugged.

“What war?” His voice was lighter this time, drawn from the kinship of soldiers.

“The only one that matters.”

With that, you turned your back to them, channeling the flow of arcane through your body. Words foreign to them slipped past your tongue, a soft pink emanating from your eyes. Runes enveloped your arms, a tear in reality peaking through the room. Your connection to Azeroth flared to life, pumping through your veins as you called a portal to your location.

For a single second, it worked.

Then, the connection faded, taking the light with it. The room returned back to normal, as did your eyes. Blackness dotted your vision as you took a step back, two hands reaching out to pull you against a hard body.

_You cannot ecsape destiny._


	2. Light Embrace

“W-what?”

The soft voice of Angela had managed to utter out. You open your mouth but no words came out.

The connection that’d been flowing through your very existence since the day you were born was fading. Something was blocking it.

A torn world flashed behind your eyes, green flames engulfing the very core. The earth that held it together was getting torn asunder, the world destroying its own corruption.

“Argus,” you breathed, your eyes wide as the grip on Frostmourne tightened.

“What did you do?” The man above you, Soldier: 76, asked.

You couldn’t answer, your mind grasping for any part of Azeroth, but it was failing. Darkness loomed over your world, threatening to consume everything you knew. 

The full force of the Legion had arrived.

“Illidan,” you muttered, knowing that Khadgar would never do something so reckless.

“Hey,” the soldier snapped, garnering your attention momentarily.

“My home,” you explained, your mouth suddenly too dry.

Distantly, you heard that voice beckon, chills rising at the low tone.

“Listen to me,” Soldier: 76 said, his large hands holding either one of your shoulders. “What was that?”

You inhaled shakily, meeting his eyes. Your gaze was distant, lost, and Jack knew it’d be hard to get through to you.

“I have to get back,” you stated firmly, pulling back an inch from his grasp.

Jack nearly grabbed you once more, needing to see the look in your eyes fade before he’d consider letting you leave. He’d seen that look get one too many friends killed.

“Love, wait!” Tracer had called after you, but you’d already been disappearing in the distance.

Thoughts were running ablaze in your head, the grip of madness beginning to take hold. The air around you ran cold, your heart slowing to a stop.

_Accept it._

The voice had whispered, wrapping you in a cool embrace. You shook through it, your boots pounding with each step you took.

“You’re dead,” you breathed, willing the voice away.

It didn’t listen.

_This is who you are._

The words echoed in your mind, dancing to a slow song, driving you towards insanity. It’d been years, but the madness never faded. It was ever vigilante, waiting for a moment of weakness for when it could finally take hold.

At some point, your feet had stopped, your eyes glazing over as you saw Azeroth in your mind.

Stormwind was on fire, burning an unearthly green as humans laid dead at its steps, blood flooding the streets. Orgrimmar housed demons, the once proud staple of the Horde reduced to rubble in the wake of the Legion. Everything would die.

Everyone would die.

You could save them, you could be the one to help them all. You just needed to give in.

_Submit._

You released a breath slowly, words on your tongue as the barriers around your mind began to fall. The icy feeling spread from Frostmourne to your skin, moving towards your heart.

It was cold, so cold.

The world began to fade around you, icy tendrils sinking into your heart. Your veins froze over, heart darkening with each passing second. Then, all at once, it disappeared.

A burst of color and the madness was gone, if only momentarily.

“Breathe,” a gruff voice said, two bright blue eyes guiding you back towards the world.

The pull of the light strengthened in you, one that hadn’t been there since before the Scourge. For a second, you could see your soul. It’d been darkened by so many horrors, so many mistakes, yet, the light that’d once encompassed your being began to grow and meld with another force.

“I don’t understand,” you admitted aloud.

The face before you grew in concern, brows furrowing. You smiled when you realized it was the soldier, only he’d discarded his mask. He was quite handsome and rugged.

The scar that ran along his face reminded you of Varian, you thought sadly.

“Explain,” he said simply, no judgement in his tone.

His friends managed to catch up, closing in on where the two of you were. When the soldier realized this, he removed his hand from your shoulder. Your body cooled at the loss of contact, your eyes narrowing at the feeling. It was almost as if his touch had been what was keeping your demons at bay.

“You know,” you whispered, an echo of a smile on my face, “where I’m from, you’d be a great warrior.”

“And where is that?” Soldier: 76 asked, though you saw the hint of a grin on his lips.

Your eyes flitted from the faces that you’d been introduced to earlier, heart calming its pace. They weren’t enemies. You were safe. They could help you.

_For now…_

With a steadying breath, you introduced yourself and your world. You explained to them the Legion and the war. You told them about Khadgar and about Illidan. You told them about the battles you’d fought in, the troubles you’d overcome. You told them about priests and druids and warriors and warlocks. You told them about hunters and monks and demon hunters and mages. You told them about everything.

Everything except Frostmourne, and your fall from the light, except Arthas and what became of the Scourge.

By the end of it, you found yourself gravitating towards the soldier, almost wishing he’d offer another touch of comfort to shield you from the madness that threatened to overcome you at all times. Though, you continued to hold out, patiently answering questions and offering displays. Never did you think you’d be so thankful for the lessons you’d received from Khadgar or the long talks you’d had with Thrall.

Through it all, though, you’d managed to keep yourself from reaching towards the soldier, if only just.


	3. Beauty

Your fingers were moving in the air, soft sparks of magic lighting the tips. It wasn’t anything impressive or important, just a way to pass the time and reassure yourself that you were in fact still connected to Azeroth.

Your gaze wasn’t watching as you channeled arcane, instead you were looking out the window, your head resting against the cool glass. The sky was filled with pinks, blues, and purples, the sun descending as night took hold. Trees blew in the distance and grass parted for the soft breeze. It was beautiful.

Idly, you thought back to an encounter you’d had with Prophet Velen.

_“This gift of yours,” you inquired softly, “how does it work?”_

_Velen had looked at you, his glowing eyes soft as he rested a large hand on your shoulder. The light buried deep within you stirred at his touch._

_“I see,” was all he replied._

_Though, you noted the smile on his face faded into a frown._

_He saw corruption in you, he saw the slow descent into madness that made your very being. He saw the light dwindling._

_And then he saw it all coming back in a flash._

_He saw another world. He saw blue eyes and red glares. He saw concern and resurgence. He saw the dance of destiny twirling around the scars that were seared into your soul._

_When you left, he’d whispered to the wind._

_“A grim fate, indeed.”_

The memory brought a sigh to your lips. There were few who believed in you anymore. When you were just a paladin and nothing more, you’d found a great deal of respect. You were loved.

And then Arthas happened.

Ghosts of memories licked at your mind, begging to be relived as if it’d have some sort of impact on you today.

You did not grant them passage.

“That’s a neat little trick,” Soldier: 76, or Jack as you’d come to know him in the past few weeks, commented.

He was wary of what you were capable of, but he also had a connection with you that the others couldn’t relate to. It could be traced to the wariness of war, you supposed.

“It’s arcane,” you said, a hint of a smile on your lips.

Khadgar had shown you a few parlor tricks to impress others. He’d shown you some fairly life-saving tips too, but you preferred to rely on brute strength for most of it.

“Arcane,” Jack repeated, taking a seat on the couch across from the window sill where you were perched.

You let go of the connection, dropping your hand back down into your lap. Your gaze found his, a soft glow radiating in your mind at the sight of him. He had the visor on again, but he’d come to take it off quite often around you. You weren’t sure if it was because he knew some of the technology could make you uneasy or if it was because he didn’t want to wear a mask in front of you.

“I thought I’d warn you that Hana’s not far behind me with all of her gaming stuff,” Jack warned, though you could almost hear a hint of a smile on his face.

You smiled as well, though you weren’t really sure what Hana’s definition of ‘gaming’ was.

You only knew of the games at the Darkmoon Faire, or the card games you watched others play in the pubs of Dalaran.

Jack’s eyes hadn’t left you, and you felt a strange sensation bubbling in your stomach at the attention. You’d certainly grown fond of the man since you met him that day that felt oh-so long ago. In fact, most conversations between the two of you were friendly and quite amusing.

“No!” A loud voice from the doorway caught your attention.

Your hand had twitched at the sudden interruption, fingers tingling with arcane.

“You are not allowed in here while I’m gaming!” Hana yelled, pointing a finger at Jack.

You breathed a sigh of relief, allowing your mind to take precedent over your instincts. You were too used to the battlefield, every noise being a potential threat that could lead to your downfall.

“Relax,” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes at the young girl, “I’m leaving.”

Jack pushed himself to his feet, his hands up in surrender as he walked towards the exit.

The young girl, Hana, ran past him excitedly, dropping to the ground as she fiddled with things you didn’t quite understand. Jack must’ve noticed you looked confused because he nodded his head, his hand gesturing towards the door. You didn’t need any further instructions to understand what he was hinting at.

When you got up from your spot and moved to follow Jack, you noticed Hana had a pout on her lips.

“Aw, man, you don’t want to watch me?”

You blinked, not quite sure how to respond. Were you being rude by not staying? Was this a commonplace ritual in this culture?

“Hana,” Jack scolded, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back.

Light caressed your soul as his fingers grazed your skin. Why did he have such an effect on something that he had no control over?

“Fine,” she muttered, crossing her hands over her chest with a huff.

Jack ushered you from the room, lightly telling you to “just ignore her, it was a kid thing.”

You were pleasantly surprised when Jack lead you out of the facility, the last rays of sun beating on your skin. Hills rolled on and on forever in front of you, a sea of green swaying in the breeze. The trees seemed so far away, their shadows growing as darkness swelled in the air. Though they weren’t fully visible, you noticed the stars here were a lot different than the ones on Azeroth.

“Your world is beautiful,” you managed to sigh, your head tilting back as the wind washed over you.

The air tasted of sweet freedom, and the world was void of corruption. There was no fel and no Legion here.

“I suppose it is,” Jack relented.

He began walking down a twisted path, the ground overgrown with weeds and misplaced rocks.

“I haven’t stopped to enjoy it in a long time.”

You nodded, understanding. He was a soldier, much like you. You’d been trained to ignore such beauty, simply because then you wouldn’t feel empty when you were forced to destroy it. Here, though, the beauty was to be admired. It was untouched by Sargeras’ grasp, and you couldn’t help but hope it stayed that way.

“Well, I certainly hope you find time to see how magnificent it is,” you said kindly, lost in the twinkles of the sky.

“I do too,” Jack muttered, though his eyes weren’t on the world around him, they were on you.


End file.
